


Kimeraito

by skymont



Category: Digimon - All Media Types
Genre: Drama & Romance, F/M, Science Fiction & Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:21:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25480837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skymont/pseuds/skymont
Summary: maybe we are all color blind too to begin with—at least until we found our soulmate.
Relationships: Ishida Yamato | Matt Ishida/Takenouchi Sora, Takaishi Takeru | T.K. Takaishi/Yagami Hikari | Kari Kamiya
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	1. 色 (colors)

**1.  
** **色  
** **(** _**iro** _ **; colors.)**

* * *

.

.

They said humans could see about one million colors, but when they meet their soulmates, they would see around one hundred million different colors through their eyes. That's why the famous _Starry Night_ could become such a beautiful masterpiece; because Van Gogh found his soulmate just before he finished the masterpiece. If you are lucky, you would be able to see that the painting is more than just the ultramarine and yellow hue.

It is not easy for someone to realize they're able to see the colors beyond mankind's limit, and therefore, the most reliable way to attest your vision is catching a glimpse of the chimeric light—or what the Japanese refer to as _kimeraito_.

In an inconsistent, unpredictable period around the solstice, there will be a streak of light across the dark night sky. Some people would see it as an ordinary glow of violet, but for people who could really see it, it was like an aurora with multiple spectrums glazing the atmosphere. They were the ultimate colors that didn't exist within the everyday nature; colors that cannot be replicated because there are limits to our current technology.

Most people wouldn't even bother to try and depend on a rare natural phenomenon. After all, there shouldn't be much difference whether seeing the world in one million colors or a hundred times more. But that will be an offensive claim to those who are really born with color blindness, right?

Maybe we are all color blind too to begin with— _at least until we found our soulmate_.

.

.


	2. 未来 (future)

**2.  
** **未来  
** **(** _**mirai** _ **; future.)**

* * *

.

.

Less than a week ago, Takeru was still waking up in his apartment in Paris. Not that he wanted to wake up anyway; it was more because of the sun filtering through the window and the endless vibration coming from his cell phone. He didn't bother to check until he washed his face and spread the butter above the last piece of his baguette.

_His editor_. Skipped. _The woman he slept with a few days ago_. Skipped. _Another one_. Skipped. _His editor again_. Skipped. _His brother_. He wrote a mental note to call him later. _Today's flight reminder_ —and it finally struck him.

Takeru took a glance at his almost-empty crib. They already shipped some of his cardboards, so there was only furniture without anything on them. No books on the shelf, no clothes on the cupboard. Other than the wrinkled linen above his bed and some cigarette stains in the tiny balcony that would be a reminder of his darker days, it was only a picture that was still hanging on the wall; a tiny replicate of Cézanne's _Apples and Oranges_.

He wouldn't even bother to bring it—not because it was a cheap work from an amateur artist in Montmartre. He actually wondered why he didn't dispose it in the first place when he already wiped other traces of _her_ in this apartment.

He scrolled his phone back, still munching on bread that was no longer too hard for his mouth after more than five years of living here. His flight was scheduled to leave at midnight, and lately, the clock had gone very slowly for him, so he should have plenty of time. Takeru decided to have one last meal on his favorite bistro, this time taking the opportunity to properly compliment the chef. He bought some extra souvenirs just in case, then took a stroll along the Seine to capture the city for one last time so he would have a vivid memory of the place he'd ever called home.

It was around four in the afternoon when Takeru finally boarded the bus, but instead of heading back to his apartment to grab his luggage, he found himself standing in front of Musée d'Orsay.

He was disappointed with his subconscious, but not surprised.

Whenever his acquaintances came from Japan, he would recommend this place instead of Louvre, although the crowds were not much lesser. It happened that the place was rather empty at the moment though, but most probably because they would have the last admission soon. Knowing the path around so well, Takeru confidently walked passing some famous artwork before he settled in front of Van Gogh's _Starry Night_.

( _"Not_ the _Starry Night,"_ he remembered she said, _"but this one's beautiful too, right?"_ )

Takeru had the option to burn the painting to his mind as another memory, yet he was staring so intense that the painting might be the one to burn instead if he stayed a little longer. There was a sign that the museum would close soon, so he moved, but as he got out, he finally witnessed the last thing he wanted to see.

The girl was standing behind the taxi stand, overlooking the river. He could only see her hair waving over her shoulder, but Takeru knew too well to be able to figure her with a mere back view. His mind was building possible scenarios if he decided to approach her. _Would he ask how was she doing? Would he tell her that it was his last day in Paris?_

His wonder collapsed a few seconds later as a man came approaching her with an apologetic look, only to receive a kiss in return.

_And that's,_ he spoke to himself, _the reason why you shouldn't even think to come in the first place._

Everything was a dawdling blur after that. It took a transit somewhere in the Middle East, three glasses of champagne, and more than twenty miserable hours before he finally arrived in Tokyo. Yamato was already waiting outside the gate. They exchanged a mandatory short hug before his older brother escorted him to a car.

"You have a car," Takeru pointed out.

"A friend's."

It was nearly four in the afternoon when Takeru glanced at the dashboard clock. "Weren't you supposed to be at your office in this hour?"

"I took a half-day."

"Ah. I thought you're just trying to confirm the rumor about 'you basically have no job if you're working at JAXA unless you're a real astronaut'—"

" _Oi_ , shut the hell up!"

Takeru sneered as Yamato finally gave in. He would be lying if he said that he didn't miss this sort of banter.

Sora was the one who greeted them once they arrived. Takeru didn't know much about the woman his brother married to. Both of them went to the same high school, but since Takeru didn't live in the same house with Yamato due to their parent's divorce, he only met Sora for the first time just before he moved to Paris. About two years ago, his brother suddenly called to tell him that he was going to marry his high school sweetheart.

He did know that Sora worked as a designer, but the fact that she was already home before 5PM made him thinking if the couple deliberately took a time off just for him.

They had quite an early dinner; an all-Japanese feast because Sora thought that Takeru must had missed the taste of home back then. It was probably too late to admit it, but she liked Sora. There was a genuine warmth when she asked him many things while they ate; questions that didn't sound like forced pleasantries because they were now family. Lately, Takeru found himself easily annoyed if someone was meddling with too many talks, but Sora was a natural. He only wished he had some energy to answer her with a bit more enthusiasm.

But apparently, Sora was indeed a considerate person. She knew that he was tired and urged him to have a bath so he could rest immediately.

Takeru was sleeping like a dead man thanks to jet lag. When he stepped out of the room the following day, it was almost three in the afternoon and the lettuce in the sandwich that Sora had prepared for him was already soggy. He received a call from Yamato who reprimanded him for not visiting their parents as promised, but Takeru was barely responding as he could feel his whole body sore. After he finished the sandwich, he went back to sleep, this time actually set up an alarm.

Aside from Yamato, there were only three other people he had to meet upon his return to Japan. It was a pathetic number, given that he was once an everybody's fellow. He could actually set up some little reunions with his friends, but he just preferred not to. Takeru decided to start with his mother who nearly cried at the first sight of him as if she didn't come visit him a year ago. He was glad he saved up a lot of energy because his mother didn't stop talking. She even told him to stay the night, which of course he couldn't say no to.

He went to his father's office the next day. The old man was still as busy as ever even when his retirement would come in less than three years. They could only catch up briefly for a lunch, since Hiroaki had some errands and Takeru still had another place to visit back in the heart of Tokyo.

There, his editor was furious.

"You _ditch_ me." He said it like an angry lover. "The hell do you think I am?"

"I'm really sorry, Sagara- _san_." Takeru was trying his best to be as sincere as possible. "Please accept the wine and the book as a token of my apology."

"Do you think you can bribe me that easily?!" Sagara accepted both souvenirs with no hesitation, though. "Seriously, Takaishi- _kun_. If you're treating me like a ghost by ignoring me, then I'll treat you like a ghost supposed to do by haunting you nonstop."

"I'm in Japan already. It'll be easier for you to reach me now."

"You'd better be," Sagara sighed. "You should be grateful. Usually, I just drop writers who like to play hide and seek, but your talent is extraordinary. You have a promising future in this industry, you know?"

( _"I saw it,"_ she said. _"The colors."  
_ " _Did you see it too?"  
_ "— _I think there is no future for us together."_ )

" _Oi_ ," Sagara snapped him back to reality. "I'm asking you about the script. Is it done?"

Here's a secret: he never wrote longer than five sentences before he decided to press the backspace up until the screen went blank again. It was a never-ending cycle after he started to climb his way to the peak of devastation.

They ended the meeting with Sagara who was still rather upset and Takeru who again promised him the moon. As he walked aimlessly through the crowds of the city, his mind was just as empty as his words earlier.

_A future_ , they said. _Does he really have one?_

He wasn't sure whether he was wandering too far or the publishing company was indeed close to Kabukicho. Straying between the neon lights, he subconsciously entered a bar, ordered some liquor, and picked a random girl to hook with at the nearest hotel—the same thing he had done for over a year with the thought of satisfying his desire. _But how could he satisfy something that was no longer with him?_ He lost appetite to live to the fullest as his happiness was being taken away with _her_.

It was weekend, so Yamato and Sora were home when he came back. He could tell that his brother was not happy at all when he entered the apartment with the same clothes he wore two nights ago.

"Mom said you didn't stay the night yesterday," he stated. "Where have you gone?"

"I was with my editor."

"Was your editor a girl? Because you're reek of alcohol and female's perfume—"

" _Yamato_."

While Sora cut in as his savior, Takeru entered his room with no intention of going out again. He watched the ceiling changed colors according to the sun outside; orange, then pitch black, before returning to the light of day as the date had changed. What a waste of time, indeed. He moved all the way from Paris, yet he was stuck on the same poignant life.

Yamato was preparing brunch outside. No matter how upset he was yesterday and how Takeru disrespectfully treated him, it seemed that they were still in speaking terms because Yamato prepared three cups of coffee, even though one of them was already empty.

"Where's Sora?"

"Out."

His assumption was not entirely correct, because they had their meals in silence. Takeru only got a topic to discuss after their plates were already empty and he found no ashtray when he glanced at the lounge table. "I guess I cannot ask you for a cigarette now."

"You smoke?"

"You stop?"

"Sora made me to," Yamato folded his hands as he fixed his position, apparently not intending to go anywhere soon. "So how long are you planning to waste your life, huh?"

Takeru didn't respond as he sipped the rest of his coffee. Yamato knew about his recent chaotic lifestyle and had been very vocal to object. It was of course easier to keep his ear shut when they were still in different continents.

"Sora wants to pair you with someone—a sister of our friend. She wants me to talk to you first."

Apparently, he judged Sora too nice and early.

"Look. To be honest, I don't want to interrupt your private life, but you're such a mess that I cannot see this as an awful suggestion," Yamato continued. "If you don't want to, I'll tell Sora not to pitch the idea in front of you, but you have to stop goofing around for God's sake."

Takeru could hear an exhausted sigh at the end of Yamato's last sentence. Maybe that was a sign that Yamato was already fed up. He was tired of himself too, but he felt in every way possible that all the solutions being thrown at him would not really help either.

"Fine," he finally gave in. "I'll go see the girl. It's just for lunch, right?"

That was practically the long short story of how Takeru ended up sitting at a restaurant right now. He was never a fan of coming late, so he already sat by the window an hour before the designated time. Normally, he would bring his laptop, hoping that he could write something while waiting. However, Yamato said that he should just focus on the meeting and Takeru knew that he wouldn't be able to write a single word anyway, so he chose to read a book instead and occasionally check his phone.

He had to admit that Sora had an unusual matchmaking method as she was the one who did all the communication. She didn't tell him how she looked like ( _"Don't worry; she's so pretty that you'd be surprised!"_ ) nor gave him her number. The only things she disclosed were her name and occupation, but it was quite difficult to search for a kindergarten teacher named Yagami (and Sora didn't even tell her given name!) on the internet.

Takeru finished his book too early; when he glanced back at his phone, he still had around thirty minutes. He sighed and leaned back at the sofa, closing his eyes momentarily. Doubts started to creep on his empty mind, questioning why he had to accept this offer from the start. At this stage, if he did not look for any other activities, he might decide to bail out and Sora would end up taking her husband's side against him.

However, everything changed when he opened his eyes and looked out the window.

A girl was rushing across the street, trying to chase the green light on the zebra cross although she was too late in the end. As she waited for the next turn, she tried to fix her hair; a brunette, with burgundy and flickering auburn that certainly did not come from the tiny clip in her bangs. She wore a pale white t-shirt ( _with a hint of lilac ash, maybe also ivory?_ ), denim pants ( _was denim not always come in blue and indigo?_ ), and a long black cardigan with different shades of grey in each curve.

Takeru wasn't sure how he was able to describe all simple things in much precision, but then he realized how lively the colors around him had become, starting from the moment he landed his gaze on that woman.

And now, the girl was staring at him too.

There was something— _there must be something_ , because when their eyes met, she could not also stop looking. Takeru saw how her eyes widened as if she also discovered something's unraveling, and he knew for sure that when she finally took a step forward without leaving her gaze, she was heading towards him.

What they both didn't saw was the red that still hanging on the traffic light, as well as a car that traveled at a very high speed.

The next red he caught came from the forehead of the girl who was now lying on the street, complete with other colors he could no longer describe as the crowds began to gather around her.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **disclaimer:** Digimon owned by Toei/Bandai and Akiyoshi Hongo.
> 
> **reference:**
> 
> (1) Montmartre: An area in Paris that I still regret for not exploring it a little bit longer.
> 
> (2) There were two paintings of Van Gogh named Starry Night. One was the famous Starry Night that is currently in New York, and another one is Starry Night Over the Rhône (La Nuit étoilée) that is being showcased in Paris.
> 
> (3) Kabukicho: Famous red-light district in Tokyo.
> 
> **notes:** 24 July 2020. I will try my best to finish How Do You Like Your Sky Today, but for now, I want to write a little Takari. Sorry for a pretty heavy and dialogue-less chapter; not really what I expected and won't be surprised if I decide to butcher it later. This will be my first attempt experimenting with fantasy/sci-fi and there are a lot of things going inside my head without certain answers, so bear with me a little longer for this one.


End file.
